Dying Light
by Reilly.216
Summary: Shrike has been a Guardian for many years, part of an elite team with his Awoken partner, Anthony, he takes on dangerous missions directly from the Vanguard. After discovering a Hive artefact in the Hellmouth, Skrike must learn to control an evil power and battle the corruption of the Darkness that seeks to poison his mind. His actions will decide the fate of the City itself.
1. Prologue

Dying Light

Prologue

The freezing abyss of space is infinite, only ever expanding. The frozen endlessness is not empty, though. Billions of immense galaxies, created by wayward particles of dust gathering and forming, dot the vast reaches of the cosmos. Around those billions of materializations, are thousands of bright stars, fuelled by the seemingly eternal energy that allows them to burn ever brighter, ever hotter.

Surrounding those stars, are planets and moons and asteroids and comets, and all other manner of wondrous formations, orbiting the nearest centres-of-gravity. Now, many millions of planets harbour the potential for life, and many are a haven for life-forms of all kinds, including Earth – an insignificant rock orbiting an insignificant star contained within an insignificant galaxy. However, Earth's occupants, _they_ were significant – extraordinary, even.

Visited and blessed with the power of an ancient god, Humanity has done many things worthy of note - the colonisation of their entire system, the creation of their machine children and, of course, their survival in the face of Death and Darkness itself. They were a resilient species, seemingly unhindered and unafraid of the impossible odds that were not only stacked, but _towered_ against them. Of the handful of the original population of Humans that remained, few were ever given the chance to accomplish anything of note, even if they were bestowed the power of the _'Light'_ , as they called it.

However, there are many more stories of warriors that have utilised _another_ power to go down in history, in legend, whether they willingly use such power or not. The same immense power that almost wiped out Humanity centuries ago – the _'Darkness'_.

Toland, Osiris, Dredgen Yor, Kabr.

All were Guardians who were corrupted, whether they wished it or not. They are remembered for their supremacy, their scrutiny, their influence on Humanity's future.

Their _legend_.

Soon, another legend will join theirs, another who is cursed by the power he has fought against for so long. He will join the ranks of the legendary and infamous few who have used their evil power for the good of others, for the hope of a better tomorrow. For the significant few who dwell on that insignificant rock in the far reaches of space. He will fight for his life, his survival, his sanity and his memories.

His name is Shrike, and this is his story.

His _legend_.

 **VIIIIIV**

Blake loved being high up, above the worries of his normal life – well, as normal a life as a Guardian could have. Up here, he didn't feel weighed down by the needs of the thousands of inhabitants of the City he was perched above; he didn't feel the pressure of tirelessly battling against the inevitable return of the Darkness. Nobody had actually told him that it was coming back, but he could… _sense_ the coming storm the Darkness would bring. Surely, whatever the Darkness was, it knew that it _hadn't_ finished the job, so it had to be returning.

Maybe tomorrow, maybe two-hundred years from now, Blake didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. When he was up here, it didn't matter - nothing mattered. Only the breeze that gently stroked his face, rustling his hair and making him feel as if he were… flying.

It was no surprise, then, that Blake's squad-mate, Anthony, had picked out an appropriate callsign for him. In truth, Blake wasn't sure how he felt about it. Sure, the name had a certain charm to it, but he would've preferred something a little more… menacing. He was a Guardian after all; he was supposed to inspire fear in his enemies! How could he do that with a callsign like-

"Hey, _Shrike!_ Get down from there; we're going to be late - again!" Shouted a somewhat distant voice, carried up to Blake by the breeze that he had loved for as long as he could remember.

Blake looked down, over the edge of the steel construction he was perched on, to see his squad-mate looking back up at him, the full benefit of his signature glare shown to the wind-whipped Hunter high above him. Blake rolled his eyes before leaping off the side of the structure, clambering down its side in record time.

When he reached the ground, he gave Anthony his most disarming grin, attempting to avoid a lecture from the Titan about the risks of climbing to the higher places of the Tower. The glare and frown Blake received from his squad-mate assured him that his grin hadn't had the intended effect on the older Awoken man. Well, it was his callsign's namesake after all, as Anthony always seemed to be glaring at anybody who initiated conversation with him.

"C'mon, Scowl, you know how I much I love it. It's the little things, you know?" Blake told him, patting his frowning friend's shoulder with an outstretched palm. "Liven up."

"Shrike, _you're_ the one risking a court-martial from the Vanguard when you do stupid shit like climbing the unfinished sections of the highest points of the Tower. Trust me, as much as I would _love_ to see you reprimanded every once in a while for being a moronic fool, anything bad that _you_ do reflects poorly on _me_ , and you know how much I want that promotion to Mentor!" Scowl growled beneath his voice, showing his irritation.

Shrike only sighed, as if he was an exasperated parent dealing with his child throwing a tantrum.

"Anthony, it's just…" He sighed again, sadly this time, and Scowl's face softened somewhat, "You don't understand. Whenever I'm up _there_ , I can get away from all _this_. I can be free."

There was a moment of silence. Anthony did feel bad for pushing Blake around so hard, doing suicide mission after suicide mission, but it was only because he wanted to become a better Guardian, a greater warrior. Perhaps someday, he'd be able to succeed Zavala as the Titan Vanguard and Head Mentor. But such an aspiration required sacrifice and no small amount of effort. He regained his composure and addressed Blake like the fireteam leader he was.

"The Vanguard has a special mission for us. We're to report to them immediately for our briefing, and then we depart to the mission zone to do what we do best. Let's go." Anthony said in his gravelly voice, as he turned away from a disgruntled Blake, who begrudgingly followed him towards the Vanguard Hall.

" _Dick_." Blake spoke under his breath.

" _I heard that._ And that's 'Dick, sir' to you, Shrike." Scowl spoke in a low, threatening voice. And suddenly, Blake was much more alert.

 **VIIIIIV**

The two Guardians stood before the three Vanguards with stiff backs and practised stances - hands behind their backs, and feet shoulder-width apart. Blake had equipped his preferred weapon, a Pulse-Rifle, as well as several old-fashioned fragmentation grenades attached to his belt strap. He had his personal sidearm strapped to his right thigh, as well as multiple throwing-knives fastened tightly in multiple places on his forearms and chest. Blake had a medium-sized hatchet fastened to the small of his back as a last resort close-combat weapon; it was also quite capable of executing silent kills from close-range, as its blade was sharp to the touch. Everywhere else on his belt were pouches full with as much ammunition as he could carry without it spilling out. On his back was his favourite weapon of all though, his trusty Sniper Rifle that he had dubbed 'Lupus'. Given his love of heights and his attachment to wind, Shrike's abilities with the long-rifle were infamous amongst the snipers of the Tower.

His skills even rivalled that of Entity, the Lonely Sniper, who apparently wandered the Wastelands of Old Russia, searching for his targets remorselessly. Of course, Shrike had never met the Exo. Hardly anyone had, especially since the death of his entire fire-team, as well as his lover, Erebus, who had died as her consciousness was being transferred to a decommissioned Exo unit. It had been twelve years since that terrible event had happened. Since then, the House of Shadows, a small Fallen House that the City had made a truce with because of Entity and his fire-team, had migrated to the European Dead Zone and hadn't been heard from again. Ironic, really, that the House would live up to their namesake, melting into the shadows of the forgotten area of Earth. The City still presumed to honour the treaty, despite not hearing from the House for just under a decade now.

Scowl was equipped with the traditional Titan loadout, Shrike thought, as Anthony had a large Shotgun slung across his back and a Pulse Rifle hung from his right shoulder. The Awoken man was also swarmed with a bandolier of grenades and even some C-4 explosive devices.

In other words, the pair of them kicked some serious ass. If he ever felt like he was too well-armed, Blake reminded himself that they were compensating for a third member of the fire-team that they didn't have.

Soon, Commander Zavala spoke to brief the pair of their mission.

"Guardians, the pair of you have been specially selected to investigate a mysterious spike of Hive energy that has been located… _deep_ inside the Hellmouth." Zavala spoke in his firm voice. Shrike couldn't help but worry.

"How deep down, sir?" Blake asked. Ikora shot a worried look at Cayde before giving the same look to Blake and Anthony. Shrike swallowed nervously as he saw their reactions in his peripheral vision, and he cast a concerned look at Anthony, whose usually light blue skin turned pale at what Zavala said next.

"Further than _anyone_ has ever gone before." Zavala said with a grim tone. Blake let out a shaky sigh and Anthony looked to the ground in understanding. He knew what Zavala had meant when he had said that, they both did. Going deeper and deeper into the Hellmouth, stronghold of the Hive?

Zavala meant there was a high chance that neither of them were coming _back_ from the Moon.

 **VIIIIIV**

After concluding the meeting, Fireteam 'Cyclone' exited the Vanguard Hall and made their way towards the Tower Hangar. The pair were passing the Cryptarch when Shrike finally spoke up about his concerns surrounding their mission.

"Scowl, what are we even _doing_?" Blake asked his friend in a quiet voice. Anthony didn't turn to reply, instead opting to continue walking into the corridor that lead to the Hangar.

"What we're told to, Shrike. You and I both know that being a Guardian comes with the risk that every mission might be our last." Scowl replied, trying to bring a firm authority into his voice that didn't fool Blake for a moment. He knew Anthony was scared. But he had every right to be, especially after what he had gone through when he had been resurrected for the first time.

"Anthony." Blake stopped, turning and grabbing his friends arm to stay him. "You've got to realise… this is _suicide."_ Blake hissed, his eyes scared and worried about what was coming.

Anthony turned to Blake and the Hunter saw that the Awoken man wasn't just scared about what was to come… he was genuinely _terrified._ It was written all over his face. His skin was deathly pale, even for an Awoken, and his tired eyes were now wide and alert with fear.

"You think I don't know that?" Anthony spoke to him, bringing his face closer to the Human's. "I _know_ what could happen to us. Trust me, I do. But we don't have a choice. It's our duty."

Blake glanced down at the floor, feeling a twinge of shame. When he looked back up, Anthony was still staring at him with fierce eyes that the Hunter could feel boring into him. The scared young man Anthony had been seconds before had been hidden by his frowning and glares. Blake sighed, heaving his Sniper Rifle over his back and into his hands. He looked at Scowl with a hard stare of his own.

"Fine. Let's get going." Blake spoke quietly, moving past his comrade and towards his ship, a Kestrel Class AX. It's primarily black colour, with its yellow decals and highlights stood out among the rows of ships present in the hangar

Climbing a ladder into the cockpit, Blake closed the canopy and waited in silence as his ship was given appropriate room to leave the hangar and then took manual control as his ship entered orbit, heading towards the scarred surface of Earth's Moon, Anthony's own ship not far behind. He said absolutely nothing on the way there. For the entire journey, Shrike could only think of one thing.

 _I don't think we're coming home. Not this time. We've bitten off far more than we can chew._


	2. I - Cornered

Dying Light

Chapter 1 – Cornered

Transmatting onto the grey monotony of the lunar surface, Blake instantly crouched to rest on a single knee and swept the surrounding area with his weapon raised. The uneven and rocky terrain folded out before him, derelict Golden Age architecture dispersed around the landscape. No signs of hostile activity though, not _yet_. No House of Exile patrols or Hive feeding grounds. They were clear – for now. Seconds later, Scowl warped in, an almost inaudible _'whoosh'_ accompanying his arrival. He too copied Blake in the practiced manoeuvre, once he began to stand, only then did Shrike begin to relax. Anthony slung his shotgun onto his back, checking his inventory whilst Blake kept an eye out.

"Time is oh-four-hundred hours. We've got five hours of oxygen each, so we should get moving. We go in; see what the source of the spike of energy is and leave. You got that, Shrike?" Scowl said, his polarised Titan visor glinting with the Sun's light bouncing off of it.

Blake turned to his partner and nodded.

"Got it. Just recon then?" The Hunter asked, lifting an eyebrow underneath his helmet. It was a legitimate question; the Vanguard hadn't exactly given them the amount of intel that Shrike would have liked. Anthony looked around to him, re-equipping his shotgun as he spoke, flicking the safety off.

"That's an affirmative. We go in, as quiet as we can, discover the source of the energy spike and slip out just as quietly. We call in an extraction, then we go home to report to the Vanguard. We don't have any order to take any immediate action when we find the source of the energy. Stick to your training and you'll be fine." Scowl informed the Hunter.

The Titan began to move off towards the Hellmouth before Blake spoke up to raise a concern.

"Should we plant an S.O.S. beacon to set off if we aren't back here in eight hours?" He asked, fishing a device from his pocket, ready to plant it into the ground if he was given the go-ahead. Anthony turned back to Blake, his face on doubt deep in thought behind his opaque visor. After a moment, he shook his head.

"No. I doubt this will take much time to carry out. Besides, it'll take too long to set it up. We need to get moving. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to be." Anthony spoke through their earpieces. His voice nervous and quiet, but carrying the firm authority that it always did.

Blake nodded, putting away the device. He would've pressed the issue further, but the Hunter could sense that his partner was on edge enough from just being on the lunar surface. Sucking in a breath of the stale air being fed to him through his helmet, Blake began following his team leader, and fire-team 'Cyclone' began their journey towards the fortress of the Hive forces – the Hellmouth.

 **VIIIIIV**

"Scowl, I don't think we can enter through the main entrance. It's too well guarded. There are Acolytes crawling all over it." Shrike informed his partner, returning from a brief scouting run to scope out the Hive's defences and any possible openings to sneak in through. His search had turned up nothing.

"Shit." Anthony cursed. "We don't have time to search for side entrances; we've only got so much oxygen to spare before we have to turn around." Anthony told Blake what he already knew.

"What do you want to do, boss?" Blake enquired, waiting for orders.

"Hmm. I'm not sure how I feel about just charging them; it's a risk I'm not sure we can take. Even if we do win against them, we'd give up our element of surprise. There has to be some other way…"

Blake nodded, understanding the issue. He looked around, his blue eyes resting on the gaping hole that revealed the innards of the Hellmouth. The wispy green smoke rising slowly from the inky black depths, hiding untold horrors. Who could say what down there? Ever since Eriana-3 and her fireteam had gone down there, the Tower had sworn to never sentence any of their Guardians to such a suicide mission. Of course, suicide missions were Cyclone's specialty. They'd dodged death's embrace so many times it was almost uncountable. Blake smiled as a notion came to him. It was certainly going to be a gamble, but he had faith in their abilities.

"Hey, Scowl. I've got an idea." Shrike spoke up, making Anthony look over.

"Let's hear it." Scowl demanded, a slight annoyance creeping into his voice.

"What if we didn't go through the front door?" He asked.

Blake was only met with what he assumed was a look of confusion and contempt from the Titan as he depolarised his visor, his blue skin and glowing orange eyes clear to see.

"I've already told you, Shrike, that we don't have the time to go searching for hidden entrances or backdoors." He scolded the Hunter. Blake chuckled as he depolarised his own visor, revealing his two piercing blue eyes.

"Trust me, Scowl, the entrance I'm thinking of ain't exactly _hidden_." Shrike smirked as he gestured to the enormous hole that led deeper into the Moon's core.

"You're insane." Scowl told him.

"Which is exactly why the Hive wouldn't expect anyone to go down that way! You want to surprise them? There you go, that's your answer." Blake told his larger friend, who stood head and shoulders above the petite Hunter.

"So, what, you want us to _jump_?" Scowl asked, reeling his temper into control.

"Not exactly." Blake said with a sly undertone, as he drew out his hatchet. He raised an eyebrow at the Titan as he polarised his visor. Anthony sighed as he gave in; he reached for a pair of Shrike's throwing knives and he proceeded towards the edge of the Hellmouth. Blake followed closely behind, drawing another knife to act as his second pick.

"You sure you want to do this?" Blake asked his friend. "I mean, we don't even know what could be down there."

Anthony let out a long shaky breath, clearly more scared than he was letting on to his partner. He turned to Blake slowly and smiled nervously as he polarised his visor.

"I know exactly what's down there, Shrike. Our objective. Everything else is secondary. Ready?" He turned to his partner.

"Let's do this." Blake said, nodding his support.

Then, as one, they began descending the sheer edge of the pit leading into the Hellmouth, embedding their knives and hatchets into the rock formations to gradually lower themselves down towards the infinite blackness of the chasm below.

 **VIIIIIV**

The duo proceeded slowly down the tunnels of the Hellmouth, watching each other's backs. They maintained a determined silence, too focused on the task at hand to speak. They knew where they were going. Their HUD's had traced the source of the signal and was slowly guiding with checkpoints towards the energy source. So far, there had been no resistance, which surprised Blake, but he wasn't going to complain. Distant screeches and howls of the Hive could be heard from far away, deeper into the cavernous tunnels of the Hive fortress. Disgusting black stalactites seemed to drip ooze onto the ground from their position high above on the ceiling. An eerie green-black fog covered the ground in a thin veil, wisping into smoky tendrils that eventually settled as the pair of them progressed down the tunnels.

The walls seemed to whisper, and there were distant screeches of anguish and despair from Thralls further below. Ogres occasionally roared far below in the Hive summoning pits, reverberating their deep bellowing of pain and suffering throughout the entire Hellmouth. Blake tried to block it all out, tried to focus on his mission, but it grew more difficult to tune it all out as they drew ever nearer to the site of their objective. His HUD told him that they were about five-hundred feet away now. He exhaled a shaky breath, scared and nervous of what was to come. He glanced to Scowl, who had his shotgun fixated ahead of him, ready to fire at a moment's notice – for whatever came charging at him.

Blake's eyes softened in sympathy for his Titan team-mate. The Hunter knew that he had reason to fear the Hive, the abominations of the night. He had suffered greatly at their hands, as had his previous fire-team, 'Goliath'. They had been responsible for spearheading a series of attacks on Hive strongholds all over Earth, trying to eliminate or contain their considerable threat. They had been a squad of heavy-hitters. All of them, Titans. Anthony had been the second-in-command, the designated rifleman. He had served under his fireteam leader, Angel-4, a female Exo unit. The third member had been their heavy-weapons specialist, a trigger-happy Human called James, but because of his somewhat lacklustre intelligence and his infamous arrogance and thick-skull, he'd gotten the callsign 'Jarhead'.

Anthony's callsign had been the same back then – 'Scowl'. It was Angel that had given it to him after observing his apparent inability to crack a smile. Blake had only carried on the tradition; he hadn't been the one to anoint Anthony with that name, even though it did suit him perfectly.

They'd served together for years, each becoming veterans in the fight against the Hive to push them back and away from the City and track them to their feeding grounds all over the globe. The three of them had single-handedly wiped out dozens Hive nests off the face of the map, destroying whatever they came across. Old Atlanta, the San Francisco Dead Zone and the ruins of Old Detroit had been their crowning achievements, marking them down in history. But that was never enough for them, they always wanted more. More danger, more risk, more glory. In the end, that vanity and recklessness had been their undoing. 'Goliath' had attempted to clear out one of the last major Hive breeding grounds in Old Italy, in the dead city of Florence. It had been a shit-show. They were outmatched. Ogres, Knights and Wizards led a three-pronged attack. Thralls and Acolytes hurled themselves at the Guardians, trying desperately to bring them down. To avenge their brethren in Old America.

Jarhead had gone first, engulfed by a pack of Thralls that overpowered him in seconds, ripping him apart and tearing into his Human meat within moments. The remaining two saw their fate and tried to escape, and in the end, Angel was forced to make a last stand against the hordes of Knights and Acolytes while she ordered Scowl to run for his life. Anthony had objected, but he had seen sense. Running away to escape from the oncoming tidal wave of the unstoppable masses of the Hive, he had returned to the City, haunted by his failure to protect his squad-mates. Consumed by guilt, Scowl hated the Hive and feared them in equal measure.

Shrike could only try and imagine what Anthony must have been thinking at that moment. Fear? Anxiety? Anger? Resentment? Panic? A combination of all of them? Blake couldn't begin to comprehend what his squad-mate was feeling at that exact moment. But as they rounded the final corner to enter the chamber of the source of the energy spike, the Hunter instantly forgot about it.

An eerie green fog bathed the ground, shifting and swirling as the duo moved towards a platform in the centre of the room. Upon a central dais stood a long black slab, intricately carved with Hive runes and symbols etched into the black material it was made from. It resembled partially translucent glass, despite being very dark in shade and colour. It seemed to pulse with a dark energy that made Blake feel sluggish and fatigued; his arms like lead weights. The Human tried to shake off this sensation as the two of them drew nearer to the object. It almost seemed to resemble an altar of some kind. Shrike shivered at the thought of the rituals and sacrifices that might be orchestrated on this slab.

A black liquid surrounded the altar, but slithered away from them as the pair approached the altar, almost as if it were a living thing. The liquid seemed to bubble and fizz, as if it were warning them to stay away. The fog still wisped around their shins and curled up their legs like a living thing, swirling to follow their movements.

Anthony stepped up onto the raised platform, approaching the altar. He slowly outstretched his hand to touch the slab of glass, but before he could make contact, a loud screeching pierced the silence they had been engulfed in until then. Shrike whirled around to face a pack of Thralls sprinting at him, desperate to tear at his flesh, driven mad by their bloodlust. The Hunter let out a volley of bullets at the ravenous pack of Hive creatures, the projectiles ripping through their limbs and reducing them to ash and bone in moment. Their remains floated down the ground in a burst of flames as each of them died, extinguishing upon contact with the floor and disintegrating into nothing.

A moment went by as Blake held his breath, waiting to hear if any reinforcements were on their way. He looked to his fireteam leader as he watched the door they entered through for any sign of hostile activity. Shrike waited with bated breath as the seconds ticked by. Suddenly, another scream sounded out, then another. Soon, a chorus of high-pitched screeching and a cacophony of roaring echoed down the tunnels towards them, and moments later, Hive hordes began pouring through the door, all eager to kill the trespassers – punish them for crossing into their realm of darkness and pain. Dozens of Acolytes and Thralls came through the door, followed by a few Knights wielding their enormous blades.

The first pack of ravenous Thralls rushed towards them like a tidal wave, and Blake let off a harsh spew of lead from his Pulse Rifle, downing a few of the monsters. It was oddly satisfying how the aliens would perish with a small burst of flame and disintegrate into ash, their dust adding to the rest of the lunar ground. Blake reloaded, releasing the empty clip and reading another. He fired a couple of burst before more gunfire joined his. Anthony had turned and joined his fight, the Titan's shotgun letting off spews of buckshot with each pull of the trigger, tearing into Hive limbs and killing them in seconds.

The Acolytes returned fire, their Void-infused weapons striking their armour as the duo attempted to shoot back. The Guardians took cover behind some rocks, popping out and taking pot-shots at the Acolytes who were doing the same. Once, when Shrike peeked from his cover to end another Acolyte, he swore he could see… _someone_ in the shadows at the back of the room. It was crazy, but it almost looked like a _person_ , a man, standing next to a Wizard with burning orange swirling eyes, who didn't have her hands raised in an attempt to end the Guardians. They were not fighting, only… watching. Waiting. But for what, Blake wondered.

His musings were cut off as another Void bolt whizzed past his head, making him retreat back behind his cover. Shrike looked over at his partner, and saw Anthony give him some orders using quick, concise hand signals. The Titan would try to flank them, after Blake caused a distraction. The Hunter nodded; he had faith in his leader. The Awoken knew what he was doing.

He briefly wondered about the mysterious figure he had seen in the shadows, but then shook off the thought. Shrike dashed out of cover, bolting for another rock, drawing the energy blasts of many Acolytes to aim at him. He was halfway to cover when it happened. Anthony stood up, his arm winding back to lob a pack of his C4 into the crowd of Hive. Blake widened his eyes in shock, he wouldn't, would he? An explosion down here of that size? There would be a cave-in, surely.

But he did, throwing the plastique through the air in a long arc; it landed and stuck onto a Knight's chest. The room paused for a moment, the legion of Hive looking at the explosive planted onto the chitinous bone-shell of the large warrior. Blake kept running, hoping in desperation that the Awoken would refrain from triggering the remote before he was safe. Of course, Blake knew already that suicide missions were what they did best. Anthony was just trying a lot harder than the Hunter to actually commit to that objective.

Shrike skidded to a stop behind a large black rock, hoping to shield himself from the damage that the explosion would cause. Not a moment after he had, the room lit up a bright shade of orange and white. The boom reverberated around the room, ringing in his ears. The shockwave ripped through Blake, tossing him to the floor, winding him in an instant. Blake desperately sucked in the stale taste of the oxygen being fed to him through his helmet and hoped that the explosion wouldn't damage his armour systems or his respiratory pump.

Bright hues of orange and red flashed around the room, and the Hive screams were quickly silenced by their deaths or drowned out by the even louder rumbling of the explosion. Pieces of the dull red bone-like armour of Knights and the ashen limbs of countless Thralls flew in all directions, bouncing off of the walls and landing on the floor at random. Blake shouted in terror, feeling as if the explosion would be the end of him. He hoped Anthony would be alright, more than anything. Shrike didn't know if he would be able to navigate the tunnels and leave the Hellmouth on his own. He wasn't sure that he would be able to continue being a Guardian without the Titan. He'd been a Mentor to Shrike, and they'd been working with each other for so long, Blake couldn't imagine being in a team with anyone else.

Plus, Scowl owed the Hunter some Glimmer, but that wasn't important.

After a minute of waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop, and when the dust finally settled, Blake emerged from behind the black rock to peer at the devastation before him. Large black scorch marks decorated the ground, and the scattered remains of Knight Chitin and Acolyte armour. His eyes scanned the room for his partner, but nothing stirred. Even the shadows seemed motionless. The green fog had been dispersed because of the explosion, but it was returning and swallowing up the floor once again over time. Rifle raised, the Hunter wandered out into the small clearing. He briefly cast a look over to the altar they had come here to find, but it seemed untouched, as spotless as it had been when they had arrived. Not even a scratch from the explosion. Blake furrowed his brow, but decided that looking for Anthony was more important at that moment in time than discovering why the altar was still in one piece.

"Anthony? Where are you?" Blake hissed to the empty room. He swivelled his head around constantly, searching for threats. Perhaps that mysterious person who had hidden in the shadows was here somewhere - the one who had been waiting in the wings with the Wizard, watching Blake as he fought the legions of Hive. He shook off the thoughts as he continued looking for his partner.

Far off screams could be heard from the dark below, down the tunnels, clearly the explosion had alerted the Hive nearby for miles around. That didn't concern Blake, not at that moment. All he cared about was finding Anthony, and escaping. It was meant to be a recon mission, but so far, all they'd accomplished was kick the hornet's nest. They went poking things that they shouldn't have touched. And, somehow, that black glass altar was tied into the centre of all.

Blake glared at the altar, it just _felt_ wrong, like it exuded an aura of pure Darkness. He didn't want to go near the thing. It sent shivers down his spine just looking at it. It was wrong. It shouldn't exist, surely. The sheer amount of _Darkness_ coming from the slab, it just didn't feel right for it to even exist. It was wrong, just plain _wrong_.

"Anthony!" Blake spoke, much louder. The scattered pieces of the dead were strewn around with the rubble and the scorch marks from the detonation.

Then he saw it - a stark white Titan armour piece sitting amongst the black rocks and dull red of the Knight Chitin. Anthony's wrist-guard. It was battered and charred. Bent and blackened by the explosion that had been extinguished long ago, but still retained enough of the detail that Blake could recognise it. Sadness swelled in Blake's chest, as he saw the wrist-guard as a sure sign of Scowl's death at the hands of the explosion. He dropped his gun, and began pulling pieces of rubble from the heap in the centre of the room. Blake wouldn't believe his friend to be dead, he just… couldn't. But, where was Anthony's Ghost? Was it destroyed in the blast, or by the falling rubble?

Even if it was, and Anthony truly was dead, Shrike certainly wasn't leaving his remains _here_ in the Pit. No, Anthony deserved a proper burial, on Earth. Or maybe jettisoned into the infinite cosmos of the stars, as was the Reef-born Awoken's custom. Anthony was an Earthborn Awoken, but surely it wouldn't matter? It was what Scowl would've wanted.

Blake grunted as he hefted stone after stone of from the largest pile and onto the scorched ground around him, tears of anguish streamed from his eyes and Shrike grimaced from a mixture of exertion and overwhelming sadness.

The Hunter was so distracted in his grief that he didn't notice the Hive Knight walking up behind him to raise his sword and bring its hilt swiftly down on Blake's head, knocking him out instantly. Blake fell to the floor, unconscious, and the Knight hefted the petite Guardian onto a shoulder, laughing humourlessly, as he marched into the depths of the Pit to bring the Hunter to its master.

 **VIIIIIV**


	3. II - Corrupted

Dying Light

Chapter 2 – Corrupted

Blake groaned quietly as he slowly emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. His eyes were screwed shut with the pain and aching that seemed to envelope his entire body, a deep throbbing pain flared up in the side of his head, making him feel nauseous and dizzy. Blake slowly opened his eyes, his blue orbs attempting to look around. But the sight that greeted him wasn't much better than the inky blackness of unconsciousness that he had occupied moments earlier.

His impact-resistant polycarbonate visor was cracked and fractured, lines decorating the screen like a spider's cobweb. Blake groaned. Anthony was going to kill him if he found out that he'd damaged his equipment. Blake's eyes snapped wide open. _Anthony!_

He remembered it all – the altar, the screeching of the Hive hordes, the ambush, the explosion and then the piece of Anthony's armour. Then, nothing. Where was Anthony? Was he alive? And what had happened to Blake?

Shrike attempted to stand, but was held in place by some restraining force. He looked down to his wrists, and saw that they were bound by writhing tendrils of black-green smoke. His ankles were trapped in the same way. Where was he? How had he gotten here? Why was he still alive? Panic began to bubble in his chest, his stomach doing backflips at the thought of what could happen to him. His breathing quickened as Blake thrashed to try and escape the grip of the tendrils. He tried summoning his Ghost, but for some reason he couldn't. Some Hive magic must have been preventing him somehow. Shrike looked around furiously, seeing that he was in some kind of chamber, with doors decorated with Hive runes at regular intervals. Greenish smoke surrounded him in a fog-like fashion, making the floor hard to make out, and blotting out the ceiling. He saw that he was lying on a slab of what appeared to be black glass, chipped and shaped in the rough shape of an operating table. Another smaller slab was nearby, and on it sat a multitude of dangerous looking tools and weapons. Blades and carving knives sat on the slab in an arranged fashion, patiently waiting for someone to make use of them.

Blake could hear a distant screeching from behind one of the many Hive doors, as if some demon had been woken from its slumber because of his thrashing.

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit…_

Blake suddenly went very still, trying to pinpoint how far away the screeching was from him, and if it was headed in his direction. His breathing seemed loud against the near-silence of the empty room. Or at least, Shrike thought it was empty, he couldn't really tell with the inky blackness of the sickly green fog surrounding him. But suddenly, another noise caught his attention, a deep throaty cackle. Quiet, almost like a whisper, but definitely there. Was he going crazy? Hearing voices in the dark? Blake shook his head and instead tried to look around, more carefully now, trying to make out distinctive features of the room. The cracks in his visor obscured his vision somewhat, but he could see well enough.

"Who's there?" Blake spoke into the darkness. The cackling came again, louder this time. It was grating and drawn-out. It sounded like a rusty machine moving after a long time.

"Show yourself!" Shrike demanded the voice in the fog. Then, in the corner of the room, Blake could make out two pin-pricks of orange light. They floated in mid-air, seemingly bobbing up and down, almost dancing in thin air.

Another cackle and the orange lights slowly crept towards Shrike, becoming larger until it was revealed that there was more than one of the lights for each pin-prick. They were in fact swirling stripes of orange, moving of their own accord. As they slowly drew closer to Shrike, he saw that they were part of something else, and something began to take shape in the darkness, bringing itself forward into the light near Blake's glass slab.

A Hive Wizard, staring at the Hunter, her orange eyes burning into his soul, memorising everything about the Human.

"You… Guardian… are fool! Thought… you could… destroy altar? Stupid!" It rasped in broken English. Blake squirmed, trying to put as much distance between him and… _it._

"What do you want with me?! Who are you?!" Blake almost shouted his questions, surprising even himself. The Wizard seemed to make a noise akin to a sneer, and she cackled once again, the sound shooting up Shrike's spine like icy fingers. The Wizard stopped laughing after a few moments, as it seemed to revel in Blake's fright and discomfort.

"I am… Thegath. And you… are an _experiment_." The Wizard told him, the sounds of her words sharp and cruel to the Hunter. He didn't like the sound of that. Blake was an _experiment_? What could she mean?

"What are going to do to me? What do you mean 'experiment'?" Blake asked, his voice shaking, letting on his terror and worry.

The Wizard just cackled, enjoying his confusion and dread, and raised her hands so her palms faced him. Blake's eyes widened and he thrashed against his restraints harder than ever at what he saw. Her fingers became enveloped by a thick green mist that poured into her hands and wisped ominously towards the Hunter, seeping into his plating and looking for cracks in his armour. It poured through, and soon Shrike could taste the mist in his respirator, working its way into his helmet. He clamped his mouth shut, desperate to keep the smoke away from him. It rolled up to his lips, trying to force its way into his mouth.

"Mmph!" Blake grunted, tipping his head back to try and get away from the malevolent green mist that seemed to move of its own volition.

The Wizard cackled again, and suddenly the mist shot up, working its way into his body through his nostrils. As soon as it made contact with the inside of his nose, it seemed to burn his flesh and cartilage, as if it were some kind of acid. Shrike opened his mouth to scream in pain, but the sound was stolen from his lungs as the green mist rushed into his mouth, now that it had opened. It burned his throat as it forced its way deeper into his body. It seemed to turn from a mist into some kind of sludge or slime as soon as it touched his body, making it heavier as it slid further into his throat.

Blake coughed and spluttered, gagging to trying and remove the Hive magic, but it was no use. The smoke made its way into his lungs, seeming to set them on fire with the excruciating pain of burning and throbbing. He would have screamed in agony, but his voice was stolen from him and muffled before any noise could escape him. Blake clamped his eyes shut as he felt a few hot tears begin to stream down his cheeks. Moments later, the burning became too much for him, and his oxygen-starved lungs gave out, forcing Shrike to pass out.

 **VIIIIIV**

Blake's eyes snapped open, wildly scanning the room around him. He felt a sore throbbing in his lungs, and his throat was aching, but he'd manage. Within moments, the Hunter found what he was looking for – the Wizard, Thegath. She was at the door that was decorated with Hive runes. But this time the large door was open, revealing the gloomy hallways and corridors beyond. He heard the cries and rasping screams of the Hive from somewhere further away through the door. Blake briefly wondered how many of them there could be, but he quickly pushed this thought from his mind, realising he had bigger concerns at this moment in time. Raising his head a little, he stared at the Wizard, who had her back to him. There was another figure standing there with her, in the inky gloom of the shadows. From the shape, it appeared to be a person, a human perhaps. Too bulky to be a Thrall and it wasn't hunched over, so it couldn't an Acolyte. And the humanoid shape wasn't large enough to be a Knight, and didn't float like the Wizard, Thegath, next to it. But why would a person, Human or otherwise, be down here - in the depths of the Hellmouth?

Blake was about to cry out for the person to run, to save themselves and get out of here when he stopped himself, realising that this person may well be the same one who had stood by and watched as the hordes of Hive had attacked Blake and Anthony upon finding the altar. He squinted, trying to look closer at the humanoid, trying to discern any features that might aid Blake in discovering who, or indeed what, he was. The shadows most of the details, but the longer Blake stared and e eyes attuned to the darkness of the chamber, he could make out that the shape was indeed a Human, judging from his facial features made obvious to the Hunter due to the fact that he wasn't wearing a helmet. This puzzled Blake, as he realised that there must have been some amount of breathable air deep in the Hellmouth, or the Human had found a way to survive the lack of oxygen in the atmosphere and could breathe without air. Blake audibly inhaled in shock when he saw the Human's face more clearly.

He had black _cracks_ running down his face, beginning from his eyes, which were as dark as obsidian, and running down his face in a pattern similar to tears falling from crying. The cracks ended at points just above his jaw, where a serious and emotionless frown formed words to talk to the Wizard. Blake's inhalation must have been louder than he realised, because the Human with the black eyes suddenly looked directly at him with a snap turn. He grinned and spoke, louder now, in a deep male voice.

"Don't worry, Thegath. It appears I have no need to kill you. You're test subject has awoken. He is stronger than you realised." The man spoke with an obvious authority, his tone commanding and powerful. He began to approach the black glass slab that Blake was lying on, and his eyes roamed over the Hunter, scanning every detail about him. As he drew closer, standing next to Blake now, his eyes looked into Blake's.

The Hunter fidgeted under his scrutinising gaze, shifting uncomfortably beneath his watchful stare. The man seemed to regard the Human with the same curios that a person would examine a piece of excrement they'd trodden in – mild disgust, yet with a subtle indication of interest. Suddenly, Blake felt very small indeed.

"Thegath, proceed to Stage Two of the corruption process. You promised me an army, and that's exactly what I'll get. Just make sure to be more careful with this one. I forget how… _fragile_ these insects can be." The Human spoke quietly, leaning closer to Shrike's cracked visor. He squinted, trying to see through the polarised material.

Grunting in what appeared to be mild annoyance, the man placed a hand on the helmet, and green smoke steamed out of it. The helmet instantly unlocked from the rest of his armour, and became loose on Blake's body. Smiling in grim satisfaction, the man gently lifted the helmet away, revealing Shrike's terrified and panicked expression. He held his breath for as long as he could, knowing what would happen to him without air. Soon though, his oxygen-starved lungs gave out and Blake inhaled out of sheer desperation. He panted heavily as he drew in heavy inhalations. His brow furrowed in obvious confusion and mild panic.

"How are you still alive?" The man spoke Blake's questions, as if he could read his mind. "That sludge inside you has changed you, on the inside. Now, you're quite the freak, aren't you? Able to breathe without air, and live on without starving." The man drew his hand into a fist, and punched Blake full on his face, breaking his nose.

He screamed in pain, feeling blood beginning to trickle from the mound of cartilage. He grunted, waiting for his body to heal from the Light's influence.

"Even your blood has changed. Black now. The colour of night. Of death itself. I let you keep your sense of pain though, to remind you of how weak you truly are, Human." He sneered when he began to hear the light cracks of Blake's nose reforming from the Light in his body.

The man turned to Thegath, who floated, silent, behind her master. He spoke two simple words.

"Purge him."

 **VIIIIIV**

The Wizard seemed to leer at Blake as she prepared her ritual, occasionally looking in his direction to make sure he was still scared out of his mind, which he was. His wide, bloodshot eyes and trembling body told Thegath all she needed to know. She cackled as the Wizard floated over to a large black rock that stood up towards the ceiling. The monolith seemed to pulse with negative energy, and whenever Blake craned his neck to look at it, he got the strangest feeling that the obelisk was staring back at him, like a predator would stare at its prey moments before it pounced.

The Hunter swallowed nervously as he watched Thegath approach the column of black stone. It was so dark in the room that he couldn't make out exactly what she was doing, but it appeared that she had her skeletal arms raised to the pillar, gradually making contact with her boney fingers and then the rest of her palms. She muttered an incantation in the Hive language in a quiet voice, as if she was talking to herself. Gradually, the monolith began to glow – from within. Soon enough, Shrike could make out the dull sounds of something that resembled war drums.

 _Dun._

A sharp, dull thumping sound that resonated around the chamber every few seconds. The sound rattled around Blake's head, seeming to bore into his mind, putting an unnatural pressure on his brain.

 _Dun._

Thegath started to chant louder, the incantation repeating over and over again. Shrike could now clearly make out what she was saying, though the language was still alien to him, seemingly unintelligible.

"Griix vang Thelyi cruxu! Shumi osto vixnar, nerat stiput hukkin! Mushuti volaron formi alandre ungrent!" She chanted, over and over again, growing louder and faster every time she said it. And every time she repeated the words, the obelisk glowed again. Miniature green Hive runes dotted the surface of the pillar, pouring out a menacing green light that grew brighter with every repetition of the incantation and every beat of the war drum, which seemed to have picked up its tempo, faster than before.

 _Dun, dun. Dun, dun._

It almost sounded like a heart-beat of some massive creature, waking from a slumber of untold eons. Thegath continued her chorus of chanting and she eventually began pounding her hands on the monolith, seeming to use her palms to smack the black stone, the Hive runes growing brighter with every pound of her fist, every beat of the war drum and every time she repeated her demonic chant.

 _Dun, dun. Dun, dun._

Blake closed his eyes and screwed them up tight, trying to block out the pressure he felt on his brain. It felt like a throbbing head-ache, but much worse. Like clawed fingers raking on the edges of his mind. Plunging hooks into the lobes of his brain. It felt horrible, like probing talons, testing how far his pain tolerance would allow before he succumbed to the agony. And just when Shrike felt as if he could take no more, the noise suddenly stopped to complete silence. The war drums halted their terrible beating, Thegath's chanting ceased and she no longer beat her hands on the obelisk.

Unscrewing his eyes slowly, Blake groaned as he recovered from the terrible headache, his eyes readjusting to the dim glow of the room once more. He squinted his blue eyes, allowing his pupils to dilate in order to let as much light in as they could. He was deeply haunted by what he saw, and now he knew why Thegath had stopped her ritualistic chanting. She floated slowly towards the Hunter, an object hovering in mid-air above her right hand. It was about the size of a pebble, and judging from its appearance, the tiny piece of stone had been chipped from the monolith with the tiny Hive runes decorating its surface.

Thegath cackled as she drew closer, the jagged piece of stone above her hand bobbing up and down slowly. She gestured to Blake's right arm as she came to a stop, uttering a command in her language. From out of nowhere, a pair of Knights materialised from the darkness surrounding the pair. One of them unsheathed his sword, whilst the other gripped the section Blake's armour that protected his right forearm tightly. The armour groaned and cracked under the force of the grip, the impact-resistant material not designed to protect the wearer against the strength of the Knight. Blake cried out as it broke, injuring him in the process.

The Knight with the sword hefted his cleaver above Blake's exposed skin, and for a moment Shrike thought the Hive abomination was about to cut it off entirely. But instead, the chitin-covered warrior gently laid down the edge of the blade onto his skin and applied a small amount of pressure, cutting the Hunter. Blake grunted in mild pain, knowing that the Light inside him would heal him before long. Thegath hissed another order in their language and the two Knights stepped aside, instead opting to hold Blake down, keeping him firm against the surface of the slab. Blake looked at them in confusion and a creeping sense of dread as the Wizard approached once more.

Suddenly, she lunged forward; pushing the stone into Blake's wound, penetrating his flesh. As soon as the jagged piece of rock came into contact with his skin he screamed, the pain was unbearable. It felt as though a thousand knives were being stabbed repeatedly all over Blake's body. The pain was blinding, so much so that the Hunter couldn't even think straight. Shrike screamed helplessly as the sensation engulfed him further as Thegath pressed the jagged stone even deeper into his arm. He thrashed against his restraints, and the Knights began to employ considerable pressure onto his limbs to keep him still. All Blake could do was simply wait for the sickening pain to burn itself out, though that possibility seemed like an eternity away. His corrupted black blood trickled from the wound in steady streams and hissed like acid when it dripped onto the floor, disappearing from existence. Blake's screams echoed around the chamber, bouncing around the room and ringing in his ears. He heard a tearing and he smelt his flesh burning, the putrid stench reeking in his nostrils.

Then, he simply couldn't take it anymore, and Blake passed out from the pain. As he began to drift off into the depths of unconsciousness, Blake heard the man's voice again. He sounded frustrated, his voice low and angry.

"Another failure, Thegath? I'm disappointed." He grunted, hitting the Wizard with a punch. "A shame. You swore to me that the Corruption process would succeed this time." The man growled, and then sighed. "No matter. There will always be more Guardians to corrupt, do not fret Thegath."

"Yes, my lord. What of the Human?" Thegath asked, a sneer coming into her voice when she said that last word. The man hummed in thought for a moment, then spoke in an ominous tone.

"Throw him in with the other failed experiments. We have no more use for him. Let the Thralls feast on his flesh." He commanded. "Thakji, Gratyun, take the Guardian to the tunnel. Dispose of this filth." He ordered the two Knights that stood next to Blake.

Then, his world went dark as the inky blackness claimed him once more.

 **VIIIIIV**

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks for reading, guys. I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter of 'Dying Light'. Please leave a review to tell me what you think.**

 **Replies:**

The Prophet of Over Sight:

Okay I'm hooked.

 **Reply:**

 _ **Thanks! I've been sitting on the idea for this story for a fair while, and I'm glad you've read it. I hope you stick around. :]**_

 **And now, a sneak peek into the next chapter!**

"Here goes nothing." Blake shouted as he continued to sprint towards the end of the ledge, leaping off the precipice to fall into the black chasm below.

 **Until next time, guys.**


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